


Younger Days

by Raynbowz



Series: An Interlude of Time [9]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:56:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raynbowz/pseuds/Raynbowz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Jothan are trapped at a carnival.  Will they survive the Age Regressor?  Ninth in a series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Younger Days

Younger Days  
A Doctor Who Story 

“Well now, that went splendidly,” the Doctor observed as he and his companion entered the TARDIS. He went over to the console and set the craft in motion. “Helped them with their problem, and we're all fueled as well. Charming lot, the Fibpees. Well mannered, gracious . . .”

“Maybe to you,” Jothan said angrily. “They completely ignored me once you told them I was your companion. Not so much as a glance—and you weren't any better!”

“That's just how their society is structured. It wasn't a big deal,” the Doctor replied.

“You could have at least warned me—'Jothan, on this planet your job is to blend in with the scenery, d'-you mind?' A little common courtesy . . .”

The Doctor answered in a placating tone, “They didn't mean it that way.” 

Jothan's green eyes were glowing with anger. “Then why didn't you correct them? You had plenty of opportunity, and a reason, I would think.”

“That would have been rude in their eyes,” the Doctor explained. “And you are my right-hand man . . .”

“So now I'm an _appendage_ —I see where this is going . . .”

The Doctor turned scarlet. “That's not what I said or what I meant, but now it doesn't matter 'cos you're all cross . . .”

Jothan spoke in a calm, measured tone. “One of us needs to leave, and you're the closest to the door.”

The Doctor was about to speak, but thought better of it. With a backward glance, he left the Console Room quietly.

Jothan paced around in circles for several minutes. He had never wanted so much to kick something, but there wasn't anything to kick but the TARDIS and it wasn't her fault. “I don't see how you put up with him, I really don't,” he blazed. “Arrogant git! Thinks he's Jupiter's gift to the universe, I dare say. Probably wouldn't notice I was gone if it weren't for the fact that I make noise. For two credits, I'd—”

The medic stopped. He thought for a moment that he heard weak music of some kind. He shook his head, then listened intently. Very faintly, he heard someone singing. It was in a language he could not understand, but it sounded quite interesting. He moved toward the nearest instrument panel to see where the sound was coming from.

Without warning the TARDIS did a flip, and the floor was the ceiling. Jothan landed hard and grabbed onto whatever he could as the ship turned over again, the singing now much louder. He was pretty sure it was the TARDIS that was singing, and he got the feeling she was being silly for the fun of it. The medic was quite alarmed; he usually couldn't sense the TARDIS as anything more than a background hum in his head. It was much more powerful telepathically than he was, and could kill him by accident if it wasn't careful.

The TARDIS did another roll, and the floor was back in place. Jothan still clung to a bar with all his strength; he didn't like the current situation and wasn't sure the ship was done playing games yet. He wished mightily that the Doctor would hurry and get there; surely he must know something was wrong by now.

The craft did two more flips before the Doctor arrived, looking bewildered. He let go of the doorknob as the floor returned to its normal place and hurried forward.

“Where in Jupiter have you been?” Jothan demanded.

“The TARDIS decided to change her interior layout on her own. My workshop got moved down two floors.” He got to the console and started looking things over saying, “Hush, now. What's the matter—aren't you feeling well?”

“She's singing,” Jothan told him. “It's something that's not English at all.” He opened his mind to let the Time Lord hear the song.

The Doctor “listened” through Jothan for a bit, then began flipping dials and switches, looking very concerned. He checked several screens and worked the controls anxiously.

“Well?” Jothan asked. “What's she singing, and why?”

“She's singing Gallifreyan marching songs, and the why is . . .” The Doctor flipped another switch, then turned away from the screen. “It's my fault,” he said, embarrassed. “I should have checked the fuel source more closely.”

“Is the TARDIS sick? She's got food poisoning or something?”

“Actually,” the Doctor replied, turning a bit red, “she's more drunk than sick. There must have been a little contamination in the Rift energy, perhaps a hint of trisymethicholate or . . .”

“You got the TARDIS _drunk?_ Of all the . . .” Jothan stopped as the floor shifted again. “Why do we keep flipping over like this?”

“She's turned off the shields, which are tied into the gravity stabilizers. She would have had to turn them off to re-arrange her rooms like she did.” The Doctor turned back to the console and tried to re-establish some semblance of normalcy.

“So we're flying through the Vortex to Jupiter only knows where, with no shields and no control?”

“That's about it,” the Time Lord said tightly.

Jothan clapped his hands to his ears in a futile attempt to block the noise as the singing increased mightily. His head was beginning to pound. “If she kills me with that singing, it'll serve you right . . .”

“Please stop,” the Doctor begged, trying to communicate with his ship effectively. “You're going to hurt Jothan, and you know how much you like him . . .”

Instantly, the flips stopped. The TARDIS began to materialize, and everything was still. “She's still singing,” Jothan informed his companion, “and I think she wants us out.”

The doors opened, and Jothan and the Doctor looked out at a sheet of striped canvas material. The Time Lord went back to look at a screen once more, then sighed. “We'd better go and leave her alone to get it out of her system. It shouldn't take more than an hour or two; there can't have been that much contamination or she wouldn't be flying at all.” He righted the coat rack and took down his jacket.

Jothan grabbed his jacket and asked in a demanding tone, “What if she leaves without us?”

“The TARDIS wouldn't do that,” the Doctor avowed. “She just needs a bit of time to put herself to rights again.”

The pair stepped into a cramped tent with lime green and neon pink stripes. Next to them was a machine with a sign over it that said, “Credit Conversion”. Jothan took his credit disk out of his jacket pocket and inserted it into the front of the machine. It gave a few clicks and computerized whistles, then a screen popped up. Printed on the screen was a yellow button which the medic pressed. The Doctor stood by as Jothan worked on the machine, finally ending up with a white cube that fit in his palm easily. He told the Time Lord, “I'm not sure how much this is, but we can always get more; I only changed about five hundred credits.”

The Doctor nodded, then walked to the tent opening and scanned the area. “I'm not exactly sure where we are, but it looks to be some sort of carnival.”

Jothan came up and had a look. There was a field of tents in front of them, all striped and in various color combinations. The tents were of all shapes and sizes; some seemed to be canvas, while others were made of different materials. There were even a few metal ones, shiny stripes glowing. In the center of the tents were a collection of strange machines, most of them brightly lit with lights and holographic images. Right in front of the two of them were real buildings with windows facing them. The buildings were small, grey, and functional-looking. Above the windows of one building was the word “Information”, and above the other building's windows was the word “Tickets”. All around were the sounds of people, machinery, and bright, bubbly music coming from speakers set here and there on poles between the tents.

The Doctor and Jothan walked up to the window marked “Tickets”. There were several aliens manning the booth, and the medic stepped over to one who had feathers and a beak. “How much is it to get in?” he asked.

“Are you interested in day passes, or just the Main Attraction Arena?”

Jothan said, “Two day passes, please.”

The creature answered him, “That will be ten narbs each. Please pass over your credit cube.”   
Jothan handed over the small cube, which the alien passed over a special scanner. The cube made several burbling noises, then changed color slightly from a bright white to a grayer tone.

The alien passed the cube back, along with two iridescent green bracelets. “Please place these on the arm, wing, tentacle, or other similar appendage. You have access to the Tent City, the Ride Center, and the Main Attraction Arena. Games and special attractions are available for an extra fee, which should be clearly labeled at the site of said game or attraction. The day passes are good until closing time, when the second moon rises. Enjoy your day here at the Cremanthia Carnival.”

The Time Lord put on his bracelet, which shrank until it fitted snugly on his wrist. He told his companion, “Cremanthia is the largest planet in the Mordean Stylus. The indigenous people are dog-like humanoids with telepathic abilities. Cremanthia is a hot tourist attraction due to the desert wildlife and liquid helium waterfalls in the northern region. Judging by the temperature, we're somewhere along the equator.”

“Ever been here before?” Jothan asked.

“Can't say as I have,” the Doctor replied. “It'll be somewhat similar to the Prataxen Pleasure Palace as far as the technology level. The natives are friendly for the most part and very tourist-minded; they'll do anything to part the unwary traveler with his or her money.”

The medic smiled. “It'll be fun. Besides, there are worse places to be stuck in. Remember that small moon we got stranded on with Captain Mexwed?”

The Doctor shuddered. “All I could think of is worrying about whether or not I could fix the TARDIS, then whether or not you were going to get us killed.”

“I'm just saying this place has to be better than that moss-covered monstrosity.”

The two made their way through a maze of tents checking out the offerings. The section they were in seemed to be devoted to shops. Jothan looked at some of the items offered, but none of them were catching his eye. “I want to get to the Ride Center—I bet there's a lot to do there.”

The Doctor looked doubtful. “Never been one for rides myself. Can't be half as thrilling as traveling in the TARDIS is.”

“Perhaps not,” Jothan agreed, “but it is a way to pass the time. I wonder what kinds of rides they have?”

“No idea. Most likely the same rides they have at any carnival—stuff that twists you upside down and 'round in circles for a time. We've already had that today.”

“You never know,” Jothan shrugged. “There might be something original. Look over there—a 'House of Horrors'—it says it's custom-made! Wonder how they work that?”

“They probably scan your brain before you enter, and then holographically project your fears throughout the maze. Sounds dreadful to me.”

The medic shuddered. “So it'll be full of tarantulas for me, and what for you?”

The Time Lord shook his head. “They could take their pick—Sontarans, Daleks, Cybermen, Sea Devils, maybe the Terrible Zodin for a finale, and that's just a few.” 

Jothan stopped walking and looked over at the Doctor. “Sometimes I wonder if you have any _friends_.”

“A lot of Gallifrey's allies were wiped out in the Time War, and you have to remember that the Time Lords mostly kept to themselves. That's one of the reasons I wasn't popular—they said I got too involved in other races' problems.”

“Still, even if they didn't like the Time Lords, there must be people or races out there that like _you_ ,” Jothan persisted.

The Doctor thought a moment. “Yes, there are some. Lacronid's one, then there's Alvastra, Jethamin, perhaps Ormion Twelve . . . yes, there are those out there that know and like me.”

“Then how come we never go to _those_ places? Pretty much everywhere you take me is sure to have mayhem of some kind going on, and if they're not after you specifically, they'll get around to it soon. Why can't I meet your _friends?_ ”

The Time Lord laughed. “I prefer more exciting locations. There's a lot going on in the universe, and I like seeing new sights and places. The only planet I visit often is Earth.”

“Speaking of which, when are we going back there? I'd love to see the 1990's in person.”

“We will sometime,” the Doctor promised. 

They had reached the Ride Center, and as the Doctor had predicted, most of the rides were classic carnival fare. There was a Ferris Sphere, a Racing Carousel where you raced those also on the ride; they had Bumper Shuttles and a rocket-propelled roller coaster. Jothan glanced at the Black Hole Ride, but wasn't sure about it; it didn't look that scary to him. The Zero-Gee Bubbles looked interesting, but he figured he could have a better time in the Zero Room on the TARDIS. Jothan looked at each ride twice, but finally sighed. “You're right, Doctor; it's all kiddy stuff.”

They left the Ride Center and found themselves surrounded by tents with carnival games. There were all different sorts, most of them highly luck-based but appearing to be games of skill. Jothan looked over at one tent where a Cremanthian was crying out, “Prizes for guessing your age! No telepathy used; it's all pure humanoid reasoning here. Prize if I can't guess your age—the bigger the difference, the bigger the prize! No prize given if I'm right within three years.” The tent back was hung with a variety of prizes.

Jothan stopped and pulled the Doctor over to the tent. “We have to try it—I'm sure we can get a prize!”

“Jothan wait, it's just a ploy,” the Doctor began, but it was too late; the medic was already handing his cube over to the barker. “Guess both our ages,” he offered.

“Five narbs each,” the barker responded, taking the cube and pressing it against a screen. The creature looked Jothan over and asked, “Humanoid, are you?”

“Yes,” Jothan replied.

“You'll be thirty-two then,” the barker guessed.

Jothan's face fell. “You're only a year off,” he admitted, then looked more hopeful. “Guess his age.”

The barker looked the Time Lord up and down. “Turn 'round,” he asked. The Doctor did so, sighing.

The barker took its time, but finally announced, “Fifty years.”

Jothan broke into a grin. “Not even close,” he crowed.

The barker looked disappointed. “I'm ten years too high, I bet.”

“Try eight hundred fifty too young.” Jothan was fairly dancing with delight.

The barker looked again at the Doctor and said flatly, “Not possible.”

“I'll confirm it. You stand here, and Doctor, you stand right over there, and I'll show you.” The medic opened his mind, then created a channel between the Doctor and the barker.

The barker gasped, then backed away, muttering to itself. “Wait here,” it said, then went to the back of the tent.

The Doctor pulled Jothan aside. “How much did you show him?” he asked urgently. “You can't just—”

“I just showed him your first self—that was enough, apparently. Don't worry, I didn't give him anything personal.”

“All the same,” the Doctor blustered, “you should warn a chap before you go and do something like that.”

Jothan looked up at the Time Lord. “You're right; I should have asked first. Sorry.”

The Doctor looked less perturbed. “Just warn me next time, so I can be sure to be thinking of the right things. Can't let just _anyone_ see what's in my head.”

The barker was taking its time and they waited, somewhat impatiently. “We're going to get stuck with a giant stuffed tiknothon, you know that?” the Doctor hissed.

“I doubt it,” Jothan whispered back.

The barker finally returned with a small metal plaque the size and thickness of an old-fashioned business card. On the card was printed, “One giant item worth no less than three hundred narbs.”

“What's this for?” the medic asked.

“You take it over to the Psychic Sweet Shop near the entrance of the Carnival, and they'll give you the prize. You might want to wait an hour or so; it'll take a while, as big as this'll have to be.”

“What will we get?” Jothan wanted to know.

“It all depends,” the barker shrugged. “Whatever it is, it'll be tailor-made for you and your friend. Never had Jentwen fail me yet; he's the absolute best.”

Jothan took the card and the two continued on their way. “Wonder what it is?” he asked absently, turning the card over and over in his hands.

“Probably a giant tiknothon made of candy-floss. Trust me, don't get your hopes up,” the Doctor told his companion.

“It says here it has to be worth at least three hundred narbs. I'm not sure how much a narb is, but something tells me a sweet worth three hundred of them will be more than just a little lump of sugar,” Jothan responded.

They had moved out of the games area and into a section devoted to special attractions. Here the tents were devoted to freak shows, palm-reading, and other such novelties. They walked along until Jothan stopped suddenly in front of one large tent. The tent was made of some type of flexible metal, and had a bright orange neon sign. 

“Age Regressor—Relive the Past,” the medic read. “That sounds interesting. Wonder how it works?”

“It probably has some of the same parts the TARDIS does, in less proper order and without the safety features; that's if it works at all,” the Doctor remarked. “Let's move on.”

“This could be fun,” Jothan insisted.

The Time Lord hesitated, then shook his head. “I don't know about this. I would want to see that it's safe, and they're not likely to let me go poking around their equipment.”

Just then a blue, rat-like being came out of the tent, looking up at them with beady eyes. “Want to have a go at the Age Regressor? You won't be disappointed, I can assure you. Relive your youth, for a modest fee.”

Suddenly, the Doctor searched his pockets, finally finding his wallet with the psychic paper. He took it out and flashed it at the being, saying, “Safety Inspectors. Making sure all attractions are safe, and that no-one's getting cheated.”

The creature took a step back, then held out both paws in an inviting gesture. “Right this way, sirs—we're on the up-and-up here! Take a look at whatever you like.” It led the Time Lord and his companion into the first room of the tent. Here was a variety of toys, games, and playground equipment. There were things for various ages of children to play with. “Here's the Regressor Room for when the customers are Regressed. The Regressor Tubes are over to the side, and the machine itself is back here.”

The creature led the medic and the Time Lord behind a curtain into another section of the tent. There were wires and cables coming from the Regressor Tubes in front to a complicated-looking sphere suspended a foot off the ground. Next to the sphere was a grey brain-like thing lying in a tub, pulsing and writhing. It was drenched in a pool of black fluid. Jothan stepped away, looking at it with distaste.

The Doctor took out a magnifying glass and began to study the contraption, barking out questions at intervals. “How old is the power converter?”

“Two years this month,” the rat-like creature answered helpfully. “I can get the certificate if you like . . .”

“No need. Positronic manifold?”

“Quasitronic, sir. Only the best,” the creature responded.

The Doctor asked, “Power source properly amplified and fueled?”

The being pointed to the grey mass. “All right here, sir. We keep it well-lubricated, and it's passed inspection as well.”

The Time Lord glanced over at the lump, then turned his attention to Jothan. “Well, it looks like it should be safe enough. We shall, of course, want to test it for ourselves to make sure . . .”

“Of course, sirs! Just put your clothing and effects over here,” the creature pointed to bins. “There's a wardrobe in the Regressor Room for clothes, should you want them—many of our clientele choose to go without. Now, how far back do you want to go? I can take up to four customers at a time, all with separate age limits.”

“Half a moment!” Jothan said hastily, and pulled the Doctor aside. “You can pick how old I'll be, and I'll pick for you.”

The Doctor looked disturbed for a moment, then sighed, giving in. “You can be . . . eight years old.”

“And you can be . . . how about quite young for you? I bet you were a charmer, and it's been such a long time . . . it would do you good to remember those days,” Jothan looked pleased with himself, smiling.

“Anything you want, let's just have it over.”

Jothan turned back to the rat/man. “I want to be eight years old, and he'll be . . . four months.”

The Doctor winced, but said nothing. He had all sorts of reservations about the whole thing, but he would do almost anything to make Jothan happy as long as it was safe.

“Excellent!” the creature beamed. He called out, “Yelsk? We have customers; come give me a hand!”

Another rat-like being came out from behind a fold of cloth, and the two got the machine up and running while the Doctor and Jothan put their clothes and other things in the marked bins. They stepped into tubes, and the two creatures went to work on the contraption, pushing buttons and turning dials. Jothan gasped as he felt himself shrinking, then coming to a stop. He looked down, and saw his hands and the change that had occurred. He stepped out of the tube and checked in a mirror nearby. Sure enough, he was eight years old again. “Amazing,” he breathed.

“If you wish to go over to the wardrobe, sir, I'll get your associate settled,” the rat/man said, bustling about.

The medic went into the wardrobe area and chose clothing that fit. As he came out, he caught sight of the creature coming up with a bundle in its paws. Looking closely, he saw that it was the Doctor, wrapped in a blanket and wearing nothing but a diaper. The eyes were the same, and the ears still stuck out a bit, but the biggest change was the hair. It was now soft and a light brown color.

Jothan took the Doctor in his arms and hugged him close, then held him out a bit to admire. “Aren't you just _darling_ ,” he gushed. “Really, you are the most _adorable_ thing I've ever seen! You can understand me, can't you?” He was rewarded with a sigh, and a nod of the tiny head.

He looked around, and walked over to a playpen stuffed with toys. He cleared a space, and set the Time Lord in it gently. “You play here for a bit, while I play on the playground things.” He played on the swing first, then the slide, finally making a quick sand castle. He then went back over to see how the Doctor was getting on.

The Time Lord had shed the blanket and flung all of the items out of the playpen but one—a small, rubber mallet that belonged with one of the other toys. As Jothan bent to pick him up, the Doctor hit him in the forehead with the mallet.

“Ouch!” Jothan cried out. “There's no need for—”

The Doctor used the little mallet again.

“All right, I get the idea,” Jothan grumbled, rubbing his forehead. “It can't be as fun for you as it is for me. We'll just get back to normal.” He called out to the creatures, “We're all done here.”

“Certainly, sirs. If you'll just return the clothes to the wardrobe, I'll settle your associate,” the rat/man assured. 

Jothan put the clothes back where he had found them, and returned to the tube. He saw the creature set the Doctor down, then return to the machine. “Yelsk, we're a go! Nice and easy . . .”

As Jothan sat back in the tube, he felt something, then heard a loud “pop”, and smelled something like smoke. He heard one of the rat beings cry out, “We're going to lose the whole pattern!”

“Try boosting the Interval Buffers! If it doesn't work, try a switchover, but whatever you do, _don't_ lose that pattern!”

There were several frightening sounds coming from the machine and a bunch of confused yelling, then an ominous silence. Jothan could tell he had not returned to normal, but he waited until the rat/man came out from behind the curtain. “Sir, I just want you to know—”

“What happened?” Jothan was a bit concerned.

“We had a slight problem . . .”

“What kind of 'slight' problem? What happened?” Now the medic was quite worried.

“There was a . . . hiccup . . . during transfer. Now, we didn't _lose_ anything . . .”

Jothan stood up, shaking with fear. “Just tell me what you did, and how you're going to fix it.”

The creature wrung its paws. “Nothing happened to you; your pattern captured just fine. However, your associate . . .”

Jothan froze. “You killed him.”

“No, sir, oh no! Your associate is quite alive, but . . . we were losing pattern, and we had to do something . . .”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Jothan screamed shrilly. 

“We had to re-wire his brain a bit, sir. Just a little bit, I mean it's all still there, it's just . . . re-arranged a trifle . . . we used your brain as a rough pattern . . .” The creature was whimpering now.

“You are _so_ shut down after this. Well? How long before you can fix it?” the medic demanded.

“I'm not sure, sir. It depends on exactly what caused the short. It won't be more than a few weeks . . .”

“WEEKS?!?”

“Five days, not a minute more!” the creature promised, wringing its paws again.

“You had better hope,” Jothan said icily, “that you can restore both me and my associate to our proper, original selves before this is all over, or you will _never_ work in this business again! Now, what do you have to help me in the mean time?”

“Sir, I'm not sure I understand . . .”

“I'm a naked _eight-year-old!_ What are you going to do about it while I'm waiting for the repairs to be completed?”

“Oh, of course, sir! You're welcome to anything in the wardrobe, and . . . my servant will be happy to help you get supplies for you and your associate, no cost. We'll put things to rights in no time, sir . . . we've never had this kind of problem before . . .”

The rat/man went behind the back curtain, calling out to someone. “Imaly! Imaly! I need you to go right away with this gentleman and his associate. Get them whatever they need, understand? I've got to work on the Regressor, it's had a serious botch-up . . .”

A young lady with reptilian features and scaly brown skin came out from behind the back curtain. “Will we be staying at the Carnival, or will we have to go to town, Dresk?”

The rat creature looked at Jothan, then looked in the other tube. “Town. Definitely town. You'll have to get this one back together . . .”

The lady stepped over to the tube and picked the Doctor up. “Right this way sir, and grab whatever clothes you wish. I'll be right with you . . .”

Jothan got dressed again, and came out to see the woman finishing up placing the Time Lord back in the diaper and wrapping him in a blanket. The Time Lord looked quite upset, but other than that he seemed fine. He went over and took the Doctor from her carefully. “Who are you, and where are we going?”

“My name is Imaly, sir. We're going to town to get some baby supplies, and anything you think you might need . . .”

“Before we do that,” Jothan told her, “I need our effects collected up and brought with us. I have no intention of leaving them here.”

“Of course. I'll get some bags.”

Jothan went back into the room where the two rat creatures were puzzling over the machine. They caught sight of Jothan and the head one came over. “We've found the fault, sir. The Incandescent Epsilon Ray Emitter had a short. It'll only take three days to jury-rig it, or . . .”

“You're not jury-rigging _anything_. You either fix it properly or you get a replacement—no short-cuts! I'm not having this happen again.” Jothan was as firm as he could be.

“Understood, sir. I don't see how it could have happened, sir . . .”

Jothan turned away, frustrated. “Just fix it.” 

He reached down and supported the baby in his arms a bit more snugly. The Doctor looked up at him angrily, brows furrowed. He reached out a chubby fist and hit Jothan squarely in the nose.

“I know, I'm sorry. I just hope they didn't hurt you. They'd better be telling the truth about not losing anything . . .”

The Doctor grabbed at Jothan again. All at once, Jothan got a picture of the TARDIS in his head. “The TARDIS! I wonder if she can help . . .”

Imaly came up with two clear plastic bags. “Shall we head to town? I know just the shops we need to go to . . .”

“Please meet me at the Ticket Booth, I have to get these things back to my ship. I'll be there in about twenty minutes.” Jothan wanted to get back to the TARDIS as quickly as he could.

The medic hurried through the crowds, a bit awkward with the baby and bags. He had to set everything down and search for the key once he finally made it back to the ship. He picked up the bags with one hand and scooped up the Doctor in the other arm as he entered the TARDIS. “Are you feeling better? We have a problem . . .”

At first there was nothing in his head but silence, but then he was able to hear something else—a faint, musical laugh. It grew, but stopped before it got to where it would hurt. The TARDIS seemed to be back to normal now, other than the laughing.

“Fat lot of good you are,” Jothan huffed. The Doctor reached up to touch him, but he batted away the hand absently. The Time Lord grabbed again, and Jothan got a mental picture of the door to the Doctor's workshop, which he dismissed immediately. He had no idea why he had thought of it, but there was no time now, anyway. He had to hurry and meet the woman who was going to get them supplies. He left the TARDIS, made sure it was properly locked, then rushed off.

************  
Jothan sighed as he juggled three more bags and the Doctor as he tried to get back into the TARDIS, which was quite a trick. He had declined Imaly's offer to carry the bags to their ship; he wasn't sure how the Doctor would feel about it even in an emergency, and it would have been too complicated to try and get a proper answer from someone who couldn't talk. He made it inside, then set the Doctor down as he rummaged through the bags. He found the blanket he was looking for and spread it in front of the TARDIS console, placing the Doctor on it. “Sit there a minute while I go get a spoon.”

When he came back with the smallest spoon he could find, he found that the Doctor was industriously crawling down a passage. “Oi! Get back here, it's time to eat something. Where did you think you were going, anyway?”

As he scooped the Time Lord up, he again got a mental picture of the door to the Doctor's workshop, and again dismissed it. He didn't have time to puzzle over it; he had to get his companion some food and take care of him. He carried the Doctor back to the Console Room and set him down on the blanket. He reached into another bag and got out a jar of baby food. “Here we are, some nice . . . Splined Gargovets. Not sure what a Gargovet is, or how to spline one, but I explained who we are and I think they got the food right . . .”

It was no use; the Doctor wouldn't even open his mouth. He kept giving Jothan angry, accusing glares and trying to grab at his hands. “I _said_ I was sorry! What else can I do? Really now, you should at least try to eat. It might not be pleasant, but it's the best I can do. Here, I'll take the first bite . . .”

Jothan took a spoonful and downed it. It tasted quite strange, but it was edible. “There. Not the best, but I've choked down much worse on some of the planets we've been to. Now come on, quit playing and eat!” It was frustrating that the Doctor wasn't putting forth a true effort to be helpful. Jothan wondered if the Doctor couldn't understand him anymore, and felt a spasm of fear. He would never forgive himself if the Doctor couldn't be put to rights.

Eventually, the Doctor ate half the jar of food. Jothan then took him into the bathroom to get him cleaned up for bed, then thought better of it and took him into the kitchen with some of the items he had gotten. He scrubbed the sink out well, then half-filled it with warm water and bathed the Time Lord. Getting the diaper on was a hassle, but at least the Doctor stayed still for the operation.

Jothan went in his bedroom looking for a good place for the Doctor to sleep. He sighed, then stepped back out of his room. There was nowhere really to place the baby. As he walked back toward the Console Room, he saw a door that he could have sworn wasn't there before. He opened it and found a supply of various baby items, including a high chair, a little basket and a crib. Jothan thought for a minute, then decided on the basket; it would be too hard for him to try and get the crib set up by himself. He went back into the Console Room for more blankets. “Thanks for the room,” he told the TARDIS. “I'll use the high chair tomorrow.”

He lined the basket with a blanket or two, then put the Doctor in the basket. He set the basket on the bed next to him, then turned out the light. “I'm really sorry about this whole mess. With any luck they'll have it fixed in a few days, and you'll be all right.” He curled up, and went to sleep almost at once.

When he woke, the Doctor was trying with all his might to get out of the basket with little success. Jothan left the Doctor in the basket while he got out the high chair, then spent a good hour trying to convince the Time Lord to eat some Mashed Kwempid. Again and again the Doctor would grab at him, and a picture of the Doctor's workshop came into his mind. Each time, the medic dismissed it. He had more important things to do than worry about that, he decided, but it was quite annoying.

He locked the TARDIS carefully, then got another day pass at the Ticket booth. Once inside, he set out for the Psychic Sweet Shop. He decided that the best thing would be to keep busy. It would stop him from worrying, which might keep him from bursting into tears at the whole situation. He had found a special backpack in the room the TARDIS had shown him. The Doctor seemed quite averse to the pack and tried like anything to avoid getting in it, but Jothan won out in the end. “I can't carry you everywhere, and you'll be safe enough. Don't worry, I won't forget that you're back there.” 

When he got to the shop, he found it was already open. A wonderful smell wafted through the air as he opened the door. He closed it behind him and looked around. Everything looked delicious, and it was all carved and molded into beautiful pieces of artwork. He handed the card to the creature behind the counter and said shyly, “I won a prize yesterday. I was wondering if it was ready . . .”

An aged, bent-over man with pointed ears and a furry face came out from a back room. “Just arrived, I see. I was expecting you to be taller; you'll have quite the job carting your prize away.” He went in the back, and came out carrying a two-foot high model of the TARDIS. “Queer-looking thing if you ask me, but it's what I was supposed to make. Marzipan outside, surrounding dark-chocolate fudge, with a toffee core. Base and glue of caramel. It'll be heavy for a little tyke like you . . .”

“I can manage,” Jothan said, wondering how he would. “Do you have a really large, sturdy bag?”

With a great deal of trouble and several long rests, he was able to get the thing back to the TARDIS without dropping it. He sighed in relief, and took the Doctor out of the backpack, placing him in the basket. He took up the candy TARDIS again, and got it to the kitchen. The medic wanted to put it on the table, but wasn't sure he could manage it alone. He sighed; he'd forgotten how short and weak he had been when he was eight. In the end, he left it on the floor next to the table; it wouldn't get hurt there, and it really was too heavy for him to do anything else with it.

When he came out of the kitchen, he was surprised to see something moving. He looked, and again, the Doctor was crawling down the hall. Jothan sighed, and scooped the Time Lord up, carrying him back to the Console Room. “You need to stay here. I know it's boring . . .”

The Doctor reached out with a chubby hand and caught one of Jothan's fingers. Again, Jothan got a mental picture of the Doctor's workshop door. All at once, he understood. “It's not me thinking of your workshop, it's you! That's what they meant by brain re-wiring—somehow, they've made you a telepath!” 

Jothan was going to celebrate, but the Doctor grabbed his finger again, and the picture re-appeared. “Right. If it's your workshop you want, it's what you'll get.” Carrying the baby, Jothan retraced his steps back down the hall until he reached the heavy wooden door that led to the Doctor's workshop. Jothan stared up at it, a little intimidated. He had never been in this room of the TARDIS; he'd always felt the Doctor should have some places of privacy and solitude, and this had always been one of those places. Still, the Time Lord seemed pretty sure of what he wanted. He set the Doctor down to open the door, then picked him up again to carry him inside.

The workshop was large and well-lit. There were three tables of wood, and one of metal. Tools were hanging from hooks which lined the walls. There were cabinets full of boxes and containers, all neatly sorted. Huge metal boxes were against one wall, again kept in pristine order. Everything was neat and well-organized. 

Jothan put the Doctor down on the floor and waited. The Time Lord looked around, then crawled over to one of the big metal boxes, pointing at it. Jothan started taking things out of the box, all of which looked like complicated parts of various machines and electronic gadgets. Jothan stopped when the Doctor pointed at a clear cylinder with metal stoppers on each end. The medic put the rest of the items back in the box, then carried the tube over to a workbench. He then held the Doctor up as high as he could reach while the Time Lord indicated which tools to get down. With a lot of work, Jothan got one end off the tube and extracted a thin silver rod from inside it. Satisfied, the Doctor sat on the table and supervised while Jothan put the tools back. Carefully, Jothan took the tube and the Doctor, and left the workshop.

In no time, he had gotten the Doctor in the backpack and was on his way to the Age Regressor tent with their belongings. He was met at the entrance by one of the rat-like beings. “No progress yet, sir, but we're still working on it. Perhaps tomorrow . . .”

Jothan held up the tiny silver rod. “Is this what you need?” he asked.

The rat/man examined the part carefully, then said, “Yes, that just might work. It'll take a few minutes to install it . . .”

In five minutes, Jothan and the Doctor were back in the tubes, and the machine was humming grandly. Jothan felt the difference almost at once as he was converted back to his regular size. He stepped out of the tube, and was met by an angry Doctor. “You are _thick_. We'd still be stuck if it weren't for my continual efforts . . .”

“I wasn't expecting telepathy from you! I thought I was just ruminating on your workshop. Besides, you're back to normal . . . you _are_ back, aren't you?”

“Yes, and no thanks to you. Next time . . . wait, there isn't going to _be_ a next time!” He turned to the rat-like creature, who was looking up hopefully. “I want the diode crystal and all the emitters out of that machine at once! And I'll be counting, so you better get them all—don't make me have to go fishing for them!”

The creature looked crestfallen, then resigned. “Yes, sir, I'll have them out in a jiffy.”

The Doctor supervised the operation as the contraption was taken apart bit by bit, and more tiny rods were taken out along with a large, red-orange crystal. “And you can consider yourself lucky that I don't confiscate the whole lot!” he growled as they left the tent.

“Won't they just rebuild it once you've gone?” Jothan asked timidly.

“Not without the crystal they won't,” the Doctor said resolutely. “Besides, replacing all the emitters will take them years. It'll be a _long_ time before that machine is working again.”

Jothan swallowed, then said in a small voice, “I'm very sorry about this whole thing. I never should have made you do it, and now they've damaged your brain . . .”

The Doctor stopped and took Jothan by the hand. “They didn't damage anything. Like they told you, it's all still there, just re-arranged. You'll have to teach me what to do with this new . . . development, that's all. And I know you tried your hardest to look after me. Just make sure you listen to me next time.”

“It'll be easier to listen now that I know what to be listening for,” Jothan pointed out. “But first things first—my prize is going on the table, where it belongs.”

“What _are_ you going to do with it?”

Jothan gave the Doctor a disgusted look. “We're going to eat it of course, bit by bit. I'm sure it will taste lovely . . .”

“Anything will taste better than that nasty mash you tried to feed me this morning,” the Time Lord groused.

“Look at it this way—you're coming out of this deal ahead of where you started. Not everyone can become a telepath overnight.”

“You're right, of course,” the Doctor responded. “You'll have to teach me how to use it . . .”

“I'd be honored,” Jothan told him honestly. “But I want an exchange.”

The Doctor was surprised. “There are conditions?” he asked.

“Sort of. I want to go to a planet that _likes_ you. It'll be a good place for you to practice.”

“Oh, all right,” the Doctor agreed. “We'll go to Ormion Twelve. I have quite the reputation there, or did have . . . we'll have to check and see.”

“Actually, we can go anywhere, as long as you're all right,” Jothan sighed in relief.

************Story To Follow: Switchover ************


End file.
